His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead.
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